Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 104448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
The brotherhood knew about Katie. They knew she and I had been close in high school, that she’d helped me find a way to afford Yale, and that I’d stayed with her for a few nights when my parents wouldn’t let me in their house after Matt died.
“That… that little girl looked like you, Dev,” Silas said hesitantly.
“Yeah,” I croaked.
She really did. She had my eyes. She had my hair. And seeing her—my “contribution” to help Katie achieve her dream of motherhood, my payback for all the ways Katie had helped me—had suddenly morphed into an actual, tangible human being.
My daughter.
Good god.
I felt everyone’s eyes on me. The loud music seemed to batter my skull, and the few sips of margarita I drank earlier sat like a boulder on my stomach.
“We can’t just let them go,” Silas added. “If that’s your daughter…”
I heard Foster curse before he took off after them in the crowd. Foster was protective of people he perceived as family, and I was definitely one of those people. He would scare the hell out of that poor child if she saw him chasing them across Poke Street, not to mention Tully—
“Dammit,” I said, turning and racing after them. When I caught up with Foster, I barked at him to let me handle it.
“Like hell I will,” he said, barely slowing down.
I grabbed his arm and glared at him. “Back off, Sheriff. This is my private business.”
His eyes narrowed. I could tell he wanted to argue with me, to protect me and support me, but he also knew me well enough to know privacy was important to me.
His jaw clenched. “You text me to tell me you’re okay. You hear?”
I reluctantly nodded before I picked up speed again in the direction of the little girl’s shrieking.
When I finally found them, I only saw Tully’s shapely ass in a pair of stylish suit pants as he was bent over trying to strap the little girl into a car seat. Her screams didn’t let up.
“T-Tully, wait,” I said, reaching out to touch him but pulling my hand back before I could. Saying his name out loud for the first time since that night felt strange.
He straightened up and banged his head on the doorframe. When he turned around to face me, his eyes were red-rimmed and wet, his hair disheveled.
I stepped closer and reached out to cup his head where he’d hit it. “Take a breath,” I said without thinking. It was something Katie’s grandmother had always said in situations like this one—a reminder not to say something you’d regret in the moment of pain.
Tully’s chin trembled, but his eyes glared at me, the same bright, vibrant eyes that had attracted me from across the room two years ago. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” I said softly. “You’re hurt.”
He jerked out of my grasp and nearly banged his head again. The little girl continued screaming. He turned back to her. “I know, baby. Here. Take another sip of water. That’s it.” She took a sip but then pulled her head away and cried even louder. Scrambling to figure out what else he could offer her, Tully yanked a well-loved stuffed horse out of a backpack. “Here. Here’s Trigger. You love Trigger.”
The horse seemed to calm her down immediately until all that was left were a few hiccups.
But I had the opposite reaction as I stared at the stuffed animal. Katie had named her baby’s toy after my horse. The gesture clutched at my heart.
“Where’s Katie?” I asked, knowing deep down he wouldn’t be here without Katie herself unless something terrible had happened.
A tear ran down his cheek, followed by another. It took all of my self-control not to wipe them off his face. “I’m sorry.”
I felt my back teeth grind together as my nose began to sting. “How?” I managed to ask.
He grimaced and shook his head as if he didn’t want to tell me.
“How?” I asked again, dreading the truth.
“Car accident,” he whispered.
I tilted my head back and squeezed my eyes closed. My mother’s words came back to me from the aftermath of my brother’s accident.
This is your fault, Devon. If you hadn’t bought Matt that car. If you hadn’t let him go out. This is all your fault.
I had tried not to believe her, of course. My friends, if not my rational brain, had explained that he’d made his own choices that night—choices that had included drinking and driving—but now, hearing that someone else I’d loved had died the same way… it was hard not to think fate was trying to tell me something.
“When?” I asked.
Tully’s hand absently brushed damp curls from the girl’s face. “Four nights ago. She was driving home from the airport, from a business trip, and another vehicle swerved into her, knocking her car into a barricade. At least, that’s what witnesses said. She… she died instantly.”